


Take It Slow

by abrandnewheart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hand Jobs, It’s just really tender, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Olympics arc, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, but they are anyway and we love to see it, they’re not supposed to be fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27399802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrandnewheart/pseuds/abrandnewheart
Summary: Torture. That's what it was. A whole week before they were even set to play—and there was no guarantee they even would play—and it had begun. No real exercise, just light jogs to stay active. Proper sleep schedules. Absolutely no alcohol.The absolute worst part of it all was the no sex rule, and it wouldn't have been half as bad if they hadn't absolutely fucked it up and put Atsumu and Kiyoomi in the same room.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 271





	Take It Slow

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, someone told me that sometimes athletes are told to not exercise or have sex before big competitions and, well, this is where we ended up. Enjoy.

Torture. That's what it was. A whole week before they were even set to play—and there was no guarantee they even would play—and it had begun. No real exercise, just light jogs to stay active. Proper sleep schedules. Absolutely no alcohol. 

The absolute worst part of it all was the no sex rule, and it wouldn't have been half as bad if they hadn't absolutely fucked it up and put Atsumu and Kiyoomi in the same room. 

Normally, normally Atsumu wouldn't mind—in fact he _liked_ sharing rooms with his boyfriend, obviously—but right now it was torture. 

Who would it even hurt, really, if they were to break the rule? Nobody would find out. They could be quiet—and Atsumu always did so love toying with Kiyoomi to see if he could stay quiet even with a brutal amount of teasing. 

And so he slipped into Kiyoomi's bed—single beds. Probably to discourage exactly what he was about to try—pressing in close and stealing a short little kiss and then mumbling, "Can't sleep. You?"

"Mm. Me either." Though Kiyoomi's voice is groggy like he might have been halfway to sleep already, despite what he said. 

"Shame," Atsumu mumbled, leaning in once more to nip at Kiyoomi's bottom lip. "If only we could do something about that."

"Tsumu-" Kiyooni's objection was weak at best. "We're not supposed to."

And sure, they weren’t supposed to, but since when had that ever stopped Atsumu from doing anything before?

So perhaps it was no surprise when his hand skirted along and into the edge of the shirt Kiyoomi slept in (an old one of Atsumu’s), running circles with his thumb onto pale skin. “C’mon,” he complained, placing a far more insistent kiss to his boyfriend’s mouth, “We don’t have to _finish_ , we don’t have to _fuck_.”

It was a weak argument, and he didn’t really expect it to work, but Kiyoomi huffed the hair out of his face and mumbled, “Okay fine. Just—“ a long pause, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek before he continued, “Just to be close. Not to _get off_.” 

Atsumu would take it. It sure wasn’t perfect, but he’d take it.

Take it he did, and it was a slow, slow, torturously slow _take_ , with long, languid, hot open-mouthed kisses and gentle, teasing, feather-light touches to Kiyoomi’s waist. Maybe it was a few minutes, or maybe it was a few hours—who could tell in the heat and light of the summer evening—before Atsumu even dared trail his fingers along the waistband of the pyjama pants Kiyoomi always wore. 

But he did, and it was all too easy to encourage Kiyoomi to wriggle out of them, and for Atsumu to join him. 

Atsumu was already hard and aching, and it would be all too easy to rut against Kiyoomi like some kind of animal, but he was trying to be good. Kiyoomi had set a boundary, after all. 

It was slowly that he pressed in closer, with particular attention on his hips, hyper aware of the drag of their cocks against each other. And he was so, so trying not to make a sound.

Not making a sound, because—like, all their teammates were in the surrounding rooms, and the place had unfortunately thin walls— and so it was a gasp that left Atsumu’s mouth instead, and a gasp not unlike his usual that left Kiyoomi’s, too, and Atsumu swallowed them both down by bringing their lips together again. 

Slow. It was so slow, their movements so leisurely, like they had all the time in the world to just be here right now and enjoy each other. 

It was still slow when Atsumu brought one hand down to try and fist around the both of them, still slow when Kiyoomi brought his hand down to do the same, still slow as they rutted their hips—their cocks—into each other’s hands and caught each other’s moans before they could reach the air. 

It was a different sort of intimate, but Atsumu didn’t think it was a bad one.

All too soon—was it soon?—there was a familiar feeling pooling in his gut, and judging from the way Kiyoomi’s breath hitched, the way his breaths were shaky, the way his hips had started to stutter when they had been smooth in their movements, Kiyoomi was feeling the same. 

“We can stop,” He breathed, close enough to Kiyoomi’s mouth that their lips brushed as he spoke, but oh, he didn’t want to stop at all. 

“No.” Kiyoomi was insistent, and he punctuated it with a squeeze around Atsumu’s cock. Atsumu couldn’t help but take it as a sign that Kiyoomi wanted the same; and so he tightened his grip, just a little, just enough. “Don’t stop. Please, fuck, don’t stop.”

“But I thought we weren’t supposed to, huh?” He couldn’t stop the playful lilt, couldn’t not tease when it had been Kiyoomi’s idea to just mess around and not go anywhere.

(Messy it had been, because Kiyoomi’s precome was everywhere—)

“Ah-sumu-“ The only warning that anything was going to happen was a sharp cant of Kiyoomi’s hips and an unnecessarily firm squeeze around Atsumu’s cock. Kiyoomi came over both of their hands, literally biting back the cry that threatened to leave his mouth.

Maybe it was the thrill of getting Kiyoomi to break. Maybe it was doing something they weren’t supposed to. Maybe it was the way Kiyoomi had dived in for another, hurried kiss instead of something slow and sensual that did it—

But regardless of what exactly it was that tipped him over the edge, Atsumu went, and it was like fireworks behind his eyelids and electricity through his veins.

And maybe Kiyoomi couldn’t quite catch all of his moans in his mouth, but that just made it all the funnier when Kiyoomi slapped a come-slick hand to Atsumu’s mouth to try and shut him up. 

“Omi that’s _gross_ ,” he complained—except he’d done worse things before than this. He retaliated, too, lifting his own come-sticky hand to wave in front of Kiyoomi’s face, to threaten to run it through his hair. 

”Don’t!” It was practically a squawk. 

“Hmmm,” Atsumu considered it, pulling his face away from Kiyoomi’s filthy hand. “Get your hand out of my face and we can go shower.”

“Fine, fine, deal!”

It was on unsteady legs that they made it to their bathroom. And it was another slow, tender exploration of each other’s bodies as they washed each other clean. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
